


Devils Don't Fly

by miyani



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Accidents, Childhood Trauma, Consensual Underage Sex, Dark Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eating Disorders, Explicit Sexual Content, Gen, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hurt Hinata Shouyou, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, Mental Breakdown, Minor Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Oikawa Tooru is a Little Shit, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Smoking, Unrequited Crush, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyani/pseuds/miyani
Summary: Everyone has a battle. Every person you meet has something going on. Sometimes this struggle is obvious, other times you’re oblivious to the rough patch someone has fallen into. How does it feel, to delve into that struggle?OR : Hinata Shouyou has a lot of childhood trauma, and so does everyone around him, so they take it out on him.OR : The dark universe fic with some serious mental health undertones.
Relationships: Aone Takanobu/Hinata Shouyou, Aone Takanobu/Koganegawa Kanji, Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou/Ukai Keishin, Implied Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi - Relationship, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 41
Kudos: 248





	1. Crash & Burn

**Author's Note:**

> literally wrote this for my friend atticus so if ur reading this. this is for u attic.

_How did he end up here?_

_How did he end up in a hospital bed, both ankles and several ribs broken, several teeth knocked out, and his arm in a sling?_

_How did he end up here?_

_He closes his eyes, and he can still see the scene._

_The brakes failed. The steering wheel locked up. The car skidded into the guardrail. He knew he shouldn’t have been sitting in the front seat, but it was only supposed to be a short distance. How was he supposed to know he’d get into a fatal accident? How was he supposed to know he’d be hospitalized for months on end?_

_Hinata Shouyou. Age 9. Admitted to the hospital after crashing into a guardrail. Several broken ribs, several missing teeth, scrapes, cuts, bruises, and two broken ankles. “It was a miracle he survived.” Bullshit._

_He was tired of doctors telling him how lucky he was. He wasn’t fucking lucky. His dead father slumped against the steering wheel beside him, eyes glazed over and staring at him. He was left with scars, both physical and mental. He was tired of it._

_Hinata Shouyou. Age 12. First year in junior high. Forced to join volleyball to blow off steam. He wasn’t allowed to quit, he wasn’t allowed to skip practice, he wasn’t allowed to be benched unless he was injured. He hated it. He didn’t care for volleyball, he didn’t care for his teammates, and he didn’t care for school anymore. He hated how much energy he was being forced to output. It never helped, anyways._

_“You should join the boys volleyball club.”_

_“It’ll be fun.”_

_“It’ll help you blow off steam.”_ _  
_ _“Shouyou, I want you to join the volleyball club. You wouldn’t let your dear old mother down, would you?”_

_He’s sick of being told what to do. Sick of being told how to feel, what to think, where to go, how to act. He’s always hated his teachers, nothing has changed that fact. Volleyball wasn’t fun. Never has been, never will be. He hates it here, wishes he could just go home._

_Hinata Shouyou. Age 15. His first week at Karasuno wasn't what he was told it would be like. The insults were all the same, though._

_“You’re a psychopath.”_

_“What the hell is wrong with you?”_ _  
_ _“You’re so short, are you sure you aren’t a middle schooler?”_

_“You’re so skinny, do you ever eat anything?”_

_Grow up. He’s heard it all before._

_He sat at his desk, staring at his notebook. A bit of black fabric caught his attention, prompting him to look up with the same blank stare as always. “You’re Hinata, aren’t you?” He stared at the taller male, only blinking to take in his appearance. White t-shirt, black pants, bag slung over his shoulder with the strap crossing over his chest._

_“Ah. Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Sugawara Koushi. I’m your upperclassman. I’m.. also the official setter for the volleyball team.” He held his hand out for Hinata to shake, only to receive yet another blank stare. “Ah.. Not one for socialization, huh? That’s fine.” He withdrew his hand, stuffing both into his pockets._

_“Ah.. We have practice today, so if you could make it, that’d be great. I think it’d be good for you.” He blinked at Hinata, being ignored yet again. He sighed, turning to walk away. “Hey.” He stopped, turning back to Hinata. “What’s up? Did you need something?”_

_He froze for a moment, looking back and forth between his notebook and the older kid in front of him. “Do you think you could show me where the gym is? I wasn’t here for orientation.” Sugawara’s face lit up, a smile replacing his previous frown. “Of course. Follow me, I’ll take you there now, if that’s alright with you.” Hinata stood up, gathering his things and looking up at Suga. “Lead the way.”_

_Moments passed in silence before they arrived in front of the doors to the gym. "Here we are. Karasuno's gym. Head inside, I'll see you there in a bit." He looks back at Sugawara before pushing the doors open and stepping inside. "Hinata! Ah, that is your name, right?" He stares up at the other, tilting his head to the side. "Uh.. Well, I'm Daichi. I'm your team captain. I’m happy to have you on the team.”_

_No response. Daichi scratches at the back of his head, looking down at Hinata as he waits in silence. “He doesn’t talk much. Just let him have some space.” He glances over Hinata’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Sugawara. “I’m sure you’d know a lot about space, Sugawara.”_

_“Get over yourself. Hinata-kun, why don’t you go introduce yourself to the others? If you want to, that is.” He blinks at Suga, turning back to head to the other side of the gym._

_He doesn’t learn names, doesn’t bother with faces either. He’d get used to them when the time came. For now, he was focused on his walk home. Practice went by in a blur, and he was already tired._

_He trudged up the stairs to his room, huffing quietly as he rolled into bed. He was hungry, sure, but it’s nothing he hasn’t felt before. At least Natsu wasn’t going to bed hungry. That’s all he really cared about. He pulls the blankets over his chest, shivering slightly. He doesn’t fall asleep, though. He can hardly bring himself to close his eyes without seeing the near-mangled corpse of his father. Eventually, he rolls over to face the wall, curling in on himself in a fetal position._

_How did he end up here?_


	2. Unacceptable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of school, how long has he been attending Karasuno? He hasn’t bothered to keep track. He knows most of the volleyball team on a last name basis by now, though that’s not particularly telling of his time spent there. He shakes the thought from his mind, focusing on his oatmeal once again.

_ “Daddy?” _

_ He shakes his father, staring into his eyes as tears begin to sting at his own. “Daddy? Daddy, please..” He pulls his hand away, curling in on himself the best he can. He shakes, beginning to sob. “Shouyou..” He jolts, feeling a hand on his knee. His father’s hand. “Shouyou..” His voice is raspy, blood dripping down his cheek as it pours from his eye. “Your fault.. All your fault..”  _

_ Shouyou doesn’t argue. It was his fault. He knew he should’ve sat in the backseat, but of course he was stubborn and wanted to sit in the front. “Your fault. Your fault, your fault, your fault. All your fault.” His father’s voice grew louder, blaming him for what had happened. “I wish you had never been born. Your mother would be so much happier without you. Natsu would be so much happier without you. Look at how disgusting you are. You should’ve been the one to die. It should’ve been you.” _

_ He stares at his knees, sobbing quietly as his father’s corpse simply berates him. “Say it.” He looks up, shaking his head. “Say it, Shouyou. Say it.” He curls in again, muttering incomprehensibly. “Speak up.” His voice is shaky, barely audible. “It should’ve been me..” _

_ “Louder.” _

_ “It should’ve been me..” _

_ “Louder.” _

_ “It should’ve been me.” _

_ “Louder.” _

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME.”

He wakes up with a jolt, breathing rapidly and shaking as he tries to calm himself. He’s sweaty and teary-eyed, yet still cold. He moves the blankets away, laying back down to stare into the dark. He’s had this nightmare many nights in a row, resulting in him being awake at all hours of the night. Insomnia, as they call it. He hates it, wishes he could dream of something better for once. And yet, no matter what he tries, it’s either the same nightmare, or staring into the dark until the sun peaks through his ragged curtains. 

He groans, rolling out of bed. He might as well get ready for school now; there was no point in trying to fall asleep again. It never worked anyways. He made his way downstairs, careful not to slip on the stairs. He practically drags himself into the kitchen, foraging through the molding cabinets for anything he could find. Oatmeal. That was it. He’d have to ask his mother for some money to grab something from the convenience store on his way to school.

Speaking of school, how long has he been attending Karasuno? He hasn’t bothered to keep track. He knows most of the volleyball team on a last name basis by now, though that’s not particularly telling of his time spent there. He shakes the thought from his mind, focusing on his oatmeal once again. 

He pours the milk into his bowl, watching it drown the oats before he begins to stir. He hates oatmeal. It’s bland, it’s sticky, and some way, somehow, it’s always dry. Sometimes he wishes he had taken Sugawara’s offer and stayed the night there. Maybe then he wouldn’t be eating this disgusting sludge. He doesn’t bother letting it cool down; he’s numb to the burning sensation by now. He sits at the table, picking at the chipping surface.

His house wasn’t the cleanest, nor was it the nicest; he hated it. Regardless, it was his shelter. The house was his shelter from the street, his shelter from the outside. It didn’t do much to protect him in regard to the weather. It didn’t do much to keep him warm, didn’t do much to keep him happy or entertained, but it served its purpose as a shelter. It kept him off the street, and for that, he was grateful.

He finishes eating, rinsing his bowl and drying it off before placing it back in the cabinet. He stares at the floor for a moment, watching the bugs scurry across it. He picks his foot up suddenly, stomping on a spider. He’s never felt bad for stepping on bugs. They’re just insects; why should he feel bad? He scrapes his sock against the dirty tile, sighing quietly. He heads back upstairs, locking the door to his bedroom behind him. 

He digs through his dirty laundry, huffing as he does so. How long has it been since he’s done his laundry? He wore this shirt weeks ago, surely it was clean by now. He brings it to his nose, sniffing cautiously. He gags, throwing it further into his closet. Definitely not clean.

He sighs, finally finding his uniform shirt and pulling it out of the basket. He sprays it with some of his mother’s cheap perfume, coughing at the scent. He never does seem to adjust to it, leaving him in a coughing fit. He calms down after a couple more minutes, tugging his volleyball jersey over his head and throwing it on his bed. He does the same with his shorts, putting his uniform on as he checks the time on his alarm clock. He’d have to leave soon unless he wanted to be late. As tempting as it sounded, he’s already skipped school three times this week. 

Not to mention, he has practice today. It isn’t that he cares about the sport, or his teammates. He just doesn’t want Ukai to tell him off to the counselors and get him in trouble. He stuffs his volleyball clothes into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he heads downstairs once more. He grabs his house key on his way out the door, closing it behind him as he tugged at the strap of his bag. 

He hates taking this route, but unfortunately it’s the only one he knows. He reaches the top of the hill, stopping his bike as he stares down at the city below him. He could crush it. He could crush all of it, just under his heel. The wood in the corner of his eye catches his attention. He looks up into the trees, making mental notes of how tall they were. If he fell out of one, would he die? If he knew how to tie a noose, it’d work, that’s for sure. He shakes himself out of his thoughts, continuing on his way to school. He chains his bike to the rack, heading up the stairs to his first class. Stairs. So many stairs. What do they all mean? Why is he always going up only to be let down again? 

. . . . . .

Ugh. He does this everyday. He overthinks the fucking  _ stairs. _ Is his head so empty that he needs to think about something so insignificant? 

. . . . . .

No. Contrary to popular belief, his head is  _ far _ from empty. His head is full, constantly swimming with thoughts. Granted, there were hardly any coherent or healthy thoughts, but regardless, he was constantly thinking. Constantly observing, constantly reading the room. It was a habit he had developed back in junior high to protect himself. He’d observe someone, watch them interact with others, and interact with them personally. He could always tell when someone took pity on him. Their expressions seemed forced, their voices dropped to gentle whispers, and their actions seemed noncommittal.

It was always the same people, too. The kids who didn’t understand his situation or his way of coping, and treated him as some kind of asylum escapee. So, he’s learned to keep his mouth shut until he’s sure someone can be trusted. Suga-san was an example of that. Shouyou had been distant with him, hoping he would end up just leaving him alone. 

And yet, he didn’t. Why was that? He knew next to nothing about Shouyou, but he was still patient with him. He was gentle with him, not in a condescending way, but more in a parental way. It’d been years since he’d felt affection like that. It startled him at first, causing him to distance himself more. Sugawara continued to try, though, and eventually Shouyou felt comfortable enough to start communicating back to him. 

He was still on the fence with most of his teammates, however. Most of them were much bigger and scarier than Shouyou, and the ones who were able to interact with him always ended up bringing him to a counselor and making empty promises. Kageyama Tobio, for example. He had gotten to be close with Shouyou, as close as Suga-san, if not closer. He’d been an incredible practice partner, almost a perfect teammate. He’d witnessed Shouyou having a depressive episode for the first time; he told him they could stop by a vending machine and grab whatever Shouyou wanted. He felt good; accepted. 

_ So how did he end up sitting in the counselor’s office alone? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah ! hi ! finally got the motivation to update !  
> as you can probably tell, i have plans to continue this fic ! thank you for all the support !  
> uhhh updates will be slow bc of schoolwork, but whenever i have the time and motivation i'll try to write more !


	3. Word of Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s something Shouyou just can’t rid himself of. He’s written note after note, only to rip them up and throw them into the trash pile to be burned later on. It isn’t the thought that someone would miss him that stops him. It’s the fear of being alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa double update in one week?? wack
> 
> i didn't really have the motivation to do any schoolwork today, so here's this instead :3  
> enjoy

Lunch period. He hates the lunch period. He has no lunch, he has no friends, and whenever he thinks he’s found an empty seat, the other kids suddenly “reserve” it. He hates this fucking school. He hates the school, hates the teachers, hates the students. But most of all, he hates the rumors.

_ “I heard he was raised by dogs.” _

_ “I heard he killed his father.” _

_   
_ _ “I heard he’s a serial killer.” _

_ “I heard his mom hates him.” _

_ “I heard he and his family are illegal immigrants.” _

He’s heard it all before, but it still hurts. His family isn’t the wealthiest. In fact, his mother had to work multiple jobs just to support the three of them. He constantly goes to bed hungry, but he’s okay with that. He wants Natsu to be able to grow properly. That’s all he’s ever cared about. If he couldn’t have a good childhood, he can do his best to let Natsu have a better one. 

He sits down by a corner, once again turned away from a group of boys that he knew from English class. He doesn’t particularly care at this point. Most people typically only wanted to be around him during his manic episodes, anyways.  _ His manic episodes are generally short-lived, often replaced with a depressive episode. Maybe a mixed episode if he got lucky. _

He isn’t surprised that people enjoy his company during his manic episodes. He’s more energetic, confident, talkative, active. Overall, he was happy. Well, as happy as he can get with a switching mood and childhood trauma. Unfortunately, manic episodes were rare and brief. Not many people wanted anything to do with him while he was having a depressive episode.

They were all lunchbox friends to him. They were friends with him out of pity, or during his manic episodes, and then ditched him the second he slipped up. He doesn’t bother with lunchbox friends anymore; he’s learned to pick them out based on a single interaction, effectively making it easier to protect himself from the pain of losing someone you thought cared about you.

Still, even after deciding someone if trustworthy enough to be around more, he’s cautious of what he tells them. This, of course, includes Sugawara-san. In the time they’ve known each other, Shouyou hasn’t said a word to his upperclassman about his living situation. Sure, he’s talked about his family here and there, but when your father’s death was publicized in the newspaper, it’s practically inevitable.

He hears the bell ring, shaking himself free of his thoughts. Standing up, he slings his bag over his shoulder and winces as his stomach growls. He tries to ignore it, heading to his next class quickly and quietly. He doesn’t understand the lecture, nor does he understand the homework, but there isn’t anything new about that for him. School was just something he couldn’t wrap his head around. 

He can hear the whispers around him;  _ raised by dogs, serial killer, illegal, asylum escapee.  _ All the same whispers and gossip. He looks down at his desk, blinking when he sees a small slip of paper, folded in half. He glances around cautiously, opening it. He reads over it, stopping his breathing and causing his pulse to quicken.

_ Kill yourself. _

He stares at the words on the paper, written in a mocking, sparkly pink pen. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how he should react. Sure, he’s heard rumors, been pushed into lockers, tripped and shoved into the dirt. But he’s never been told to commit suicide. He crumples the paper, shoving it into his pocket as he continues to try focusing on his teacher. Maybe he can just brush it off and repress it like he does with everything else. 

The bell rings, prompting Shouyou to practically jump out of his seat and bolt down the hallway. He doesn’t care if he gets in trouble now. He’s not going to another class. Instead, he sits down behind the gym, staring at the lighter in his hand. He’d stolen it from Ukai ages ago, using it to burn his feelings away. He gathers any trash he can find, putting it all into a pile. He tosses a chunk of charcoal into the pile, placing the lighter on the ground next to him. 

He takes a few deep breaths, taking the note from earlier out of his pocket. He hesitates, unsure if he should open it again or not. He decides to open it up, taking one last look at it before placing it on top of the trash pile. He pats the ground around him, searching for his lighter. “Looking for something?” He jolts, looking up at the source of the voice.

“Ah.. Suga-san.” He brings his knees up to his chest, sliding over to make room for Sugawara to sit. He watches the silverette sit, staring at his lighter when it catches his attention again. “What are you doing out here, Hinata-kun? Shouldn’t you be in class?” Shouyou opens his mouth to ask why he was out here, only to close it again. “Well.. I just needed to get outside. Some fresh air, you feel?”

“Bullshit, Hinata. I know your trash piles when I see them.” He sinks into himself, hugging his knees tighter. Sugawara points to the slip of paper, tilting his head slightly. “What’s that?” Shouyou doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want to drag Sugawara into his mess. He doesn’t want to be vulnerable. He snatches the lighter from Suga’s hand, flicking it on and holding it close to the trash pile, immediately pulling his hand away when it catches fire. “Dunno.” He watches Sugawara’s expression change into something reminiscent of disappointment. He gets up, shoving the lighter back into his pocket and walking away. “I should get to class now. Bye, Suga-san.” His mind loops the visual of burning the note as he walks away; a satisfying outcome to the situation in Shouyou’s opinion. 

And yet, he was still unable to get the words out of his head. They taunted him, chanting his name as the sparkly pink pen bore itself into his brain.  _ Kill yourself.  _ Who in their right mind would tell someone that? Even if he weren’t suffering from acute suicidal ideation, that shit makes Shouyou sick. 

. . . . . .

_ Suicidal ideation, also known as suicidal thoughts, is thinking about, considering, or planning suicide. The range of suicidal ideation varies from fleeting thoughts, to extensive thoughts, to detailed planning. _

It’s something Shouyou just can’t rid himself of. He’s written note after note, only to rip them up and throw them into the trash pile to be burned later on. It isn’t the thought that someone would miss him that stops him. It’s the fear of being alone. More specifically, his autophobia. It’s weird to think that a kid that’s been alone most of his life would have a phobia of being alone, but Shouyou has never stopped to consider the logistics. He just knows he’s afraid of being alone. 

Perhaps it’s a good thing that Suga-san was so persistent. Without him, Shouyou would be sitting in his room with the door locked, hitting his head on the wall and hoping he hits it just hard enough to knock him out. But for now, he’s sat in his last class of the day, listening to his teacher lecture the class about some kind of math. He looks down at his desk, frowning at the sight of the note on the desktop. He leans against his palm, contemplating if he should read it or not. After what feels like hours, he opens it up, staring at the same sparkly pink pen from the last note. 

_ Nobody would even miss you. _

Why is this happening to him? Why is he suddenly being targeted by something like this? What has he done to deserve it? He shoves that note into his pocket as well, putting his head in his hands as he begins to sob silently.

. . . . . .

The last bell rings, bringing Shouyou out of his thoughts. He grabs his bag, heading out of the classroom and making his way towards the gym. They have a practice game tomorrow; Seijoh would be coming to play at Karasuno. The thought of having to interact with more people makes Shouyou nauseous. He bolts into the bathroom, finding a stall and locking it behind him before dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. 

He gags, coughing and sputtering as his stomach rejects what few contents it contains. It’s mostly stomach acid, leaving the back of Shouyou’s throat with a dull yet noticeable burning sensation. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, taking deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down. He stands up, flushing the toilet and approaching the sink. He lets his hands rest in the sink basin, staring at himself in the mirror.

He looks dirty. His hair is matted, his clothes are unwashed, his face is visibly covered in dirt, as well as leftover vomit, and his eyes are duller than other kids his age. He lathers his hands with soap, rinsing them off before grabbing a towel and drying them. He rinses his face a bit as well, making sure to get rid of any signs that he had gotten sick. 

He steps out of the bathroom, taking a few sips from a nearby water fountain to help soothe his burning throat. He makes his way to the gymnasium, quietly heading into the boys locker room. He puts his bag on the floor, sitting at a bench and pulling his jersey out to get changed. He looks around at his teammates, clutching his own jersey close to his chest as he moves into a stall. 

He’s conscious about his body, especially around his teammates. He’s noticeably underweight, skinny enough to show his ribs, and overall he thinks he looks like a dry ramen noodle compared to the others. He gets changed, stepping out of the stall and hurrying into the gym, not bothering to put his bag in his locker. He trusts the team as a whole enough to leave it out. 

Practice goes by slowly, and Shouyou keeps getting drilled by Ukai to try harder or to pay more attention or to communicate with his teammates better. He tenses, spiking a ball with more force than anyone had expected to get out of him. He hits the ground with a  _ thud, _ standing back up and stomping his feet. “I’M TRYING MY BEST, WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY?” 

His sudden outburst leaves the rest of the team in silence, making him feel more out of place than he has in a long time. He turns sharply, storming towards the locker room to grab his bag. He doesn’t bother changing; he’s going home now anyways. 

. . . . . .

He leaves his bike on the porch, unlocking the door before heading inside. He sits down at the dinner table, calling for Natsu to come down and eat as his mother asks of him. His mother places a bowl in front of him, leaving one beside him for Natsu. She herself sits in front of Shouyou, hands folded as she smiles. “How was school today, Shouyou?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. His mother gives him a sympathetic glance, her smile brightening as she rises from her seat. “I almost forgot. I brought you something from the convenience store.” She makes her way into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a bottle of blue raspberry ramune. She places it in front of Shouyou, sitting down to eat. 

“Thank you, mom.” He picks up his fork, swirling it into his bowl of instant ramen. It’s one of his favorite meals his mother makes. Despite being store-bought, it all tastes homemade. Perhaps that was just the loving touch his mother seemed to carry. He looks over at Natsu, smiling as he watches her scarf down her food. “Careful, Natsu. You’ll choke if you eat too fast.” She ignores him, busy stuffing her face with ramen. 

He turns back to his own bowl, laughing to himself as he continues eating. He feels good knowing that Natsu won’t have to endure the feeling of going to bed hungry every night. Even if he has to endure that pain himself, he prefers that over watching his little sister suffer. 

He finishes his dinner, rinsing his bowl out and heading up to his room. He crawls into bed, still wearing his dirty, sweat-soaked volleyball clothes. He brings the blankets up to his chest, burying his face in the fabric. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before opening them again. He rolls over, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He lets his mind run wild with scenarios, simply watching them play out as though they were actually happening. He closes his eyes again, smiling slightly. His smile quickly fades though, his brain repeating a certain set of words.

_ Kill yourself. _


	4. Pink Pens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wrote down the contents of the notes, constantly scratching them out and rewriting them. Pink pens. Who did he know that owned an assortment of pink pens? Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowow ANOTHER update? life's crazy man  
> it's,, 11 pm rn. but hey. inspiration strikes.
> 
> idk i'm feeling unreasonably motivated so you're all getting fed today  
> this one starts off kinda dark, but it gets a little better in the middle. but after that it gets dark again.  
> enjoy :3

_ Kill yourself. _

_ Nobody would even miss you. _

_ Jump off the school roof. _

_ Drown yourself. _

_ Why are you even here? _

_ Nobody even likes you. _

_ Dog boy. _

_ Psychopath. _

_ Choke to death. _

_ Starve yourself. _

He’s been getting these notes all week now. The sparkling pink ink is starting to feel suffocating. Their practice game against Seijoh was a total loss. Seijoh went home with a score of 25-10. The so-called “Grand King” decided to rub their faces in it, too, despite it only being a practice game. These notes definitely weren’t helping Shouyou’s self-esteem, either. 

He sighs,leaning closer to his trash pile and setting it aflame. He sits in the dirt, watching it burn. The fire warms his skin, projecting a warm orange glow onto his face as the reflection dances in his dull brown eyes. He watches the smoke rise, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths in.

He opens his eyes again, jolting when his vision adjusts to the dim lighting. “Ah.. Tsukishima? What are you doing here so late?” Tsukki raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. “It’s only seven. But do you really think I came all the way out here for my own enjoyment? Of course not. The coach sent me out to find you. Says he wants to talk to you in the gym. Alone.” Shouyou sighs, standing up and brushing the dirt off his pants as best he can.

He practically drags himself to the gym, closing the double doors behind him. “Coach? You said you wanted to speak with me?” Ukai turns to him, nodding and clearing his throat. “I just wanted to let you know that the practice game against Aoba Johsai wasn’t because of you. Their setter is more experienced, and has a good connection with their ace.” This again. It happens every time.  _ “It’s not your fault we lost. Their (blank) is more experienced. They’re just taller than you.”  _ He didn’t want excuses. He didn’t want pity. He didn’t even want to play the damn sport. 

He huffs, turning to leave. “Save your breath, coach.” He lets the doors slam shut on his way out, beginning to make his way back home. It was the same routine every time. He’d come home, look around for his mom, Natsu complains about how hungry she is, Shouyou makes her something to eat, helps Natsu take a bath, and then goes to lay in bed until the sun rises again. He’s adjusted to this routine by now; he’s gone through everyday for six years straight like clockwork.

He goes through it once more, only this time he pulls the notes from his pocket, shining a flashlight on them. He reads them over and over, only getting more frustrated each time. He grabs fistfuls of his matted hair, tugging harshly in frustration. He swipes the notes off the edge of his bed, beginning to feel sick again. He grabs his trash can, gagging and coughing as he throws up once more. He takes a few moments to breathe, sipping from the water bottle on his nightstand. 

He lays back down, putting his arms over his face. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why he’s being harassed like this. He doesn’t understand who would do something like this. Sure, there were lots of other students that were extremely wary of him, but none of them were brave enough to pull something like this. He closes his eyes, trying to take his mind off the matter. 

. . . . . .

_ The practice game with Seijoh. The score was 9-5, first set. They had the advantage. Hinata’s serve.  _

_ 3. _

_ 2. _

_ 1. _

**_THUNK._ **

_ It had hit Kageyama in the back of the head.  _

_ His fault.  _

_ His fault. _

_ All his fault. _

_ It was Shouyou’s fault they lost.  _

. . . . . .

He moves his arms away from his face, opening his eyes. He can’t catch a break, can he? He gets up, digging through the notes on the floor. He’s usually good at assigning handwriting to a person, but he hadn’t bothered to study anyone’s handwriting at Karasuno. All he knew was that it wasn’t Sugawara’s handwriting. It wasn’t Kageyama’s. It wasn’t Asahi’s. It wasn’t Tanaka’s. 

He sits on the floor, staring at the notes for hours. He doesn’t know who the writer is. He can’t tell. It bothers him. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, turning to face the window. Already sunrise. He stood up, looking out into the hallway. The faint scent of tamago kake gohan drifts upstairs. It’s a weekend. He doesn’t have practice today, so he’s free to stay home. He steps out into the hall, cautiously making his way downstairs. His mother stands at the stove, making breakfast. She turns to Shouyou, smiling at him. “Good morning, Shouyou.” 

“Good morning, mom.” He smiles back at her, though it’s very obviously forced. He’s never been very good at smiling. Regardless, his mother runs a hand through the orange rat’s nest he calls his hair. Attempts to, at least. She frowns when it gets snagged. “Shouyou, when was the last time you combed your hair?” He stops, counting on his fingers. “Last year?” His mother sighs, resuming breakfast. “Here. You can eat breakfast first, and then you take a shower. I’ll comb your hair afterwards. Is that alright with you, Sho?” 

He nods, sitting down at the table and picking at the chipped surface. “Shouyou, please don’t do that. That old thing is damaged enough.” He gives her a muffled “mhm,” only to ignore her and continue digging his nails under the open spots in the material. His mother sighs, but says nothing as she places a bowl of tamago kake gohan in front of him. “Eat up, Shouyou. I don’t want you collapsing in the shower again.”

Oh right. He remembers that. He hadn’t eaten a real meal in days, hadn’t slept either. The water was hot, and that combined with everything else had caused him to faint. He cut his arm on the shower door handle, resulting in stitches being required. He glances down at his arm, shaking himself out of his trance to continue eating. He finishes his food, rinsing out his bowl and placing it back in the cabinet. 

He heads up to his room, digging through his closet. He finds his only clean clothes, grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. He turns the water on, placing his clothes on top of the drawers. He puts his hand under the shower head, feeling the temperature of the water. He shakes the water off his hand, moving away from the shower to get undressed. He pulls his jersey over his head, throwing it into the corner of the room before doing the same to his shorts and boxers.

He steps into the shower, letting the hot water hit his back. He stands there for a few moments, letting himself soak before bending down to grab the shampoo. He pours some into his hand, closing the cap and lathering his hands with the mixture of lemon and grapefruit. He brings both hands up to his head, furiously massaging the shampoo into his hair. His fingers get snagged a few times, though he doesn’t have many other issues. 

He lets the water rinse out his hair, only to repeat the process with the grapefruit/mint conditioner. He lets it sit in his hair this time, scrubbing his body with some random shower gel he found on the shelf. It wasn’t the best scent, but it was better than smelling like sweat and dirty laundry. He stands under the shower head, letting the water run down his body. The soap drips slowly, entrancing him. He shakes his head furiously, almost dog-like. He rubs at his eyes, clearing the soap from them. 

He stands there for a few more moments, letting the water run and clean him off a bit more. He turns the water off, stepping out of the shower and grabbing his towel. He dries himself off, changing into his clean clothes and writing his name in the fogged mirror before stepping out of the bathroom. He throws his dirty clothes into the laundry basket, walking into the dining room. His mother sits in a chair, patting the space in front of her. “Sit in front of me. I’ll blow dry your hair too. Is that alright with you?” He nods, sitting criss cross on the floor in front of his mother. She smiles, running the comb through Shouyou’s hair as she turns the hairdryer on. It’s a rather low heat, but he’s alright with that. The high heat burns the back of his head, anyways.

His mother begins humming, catching Shouyou’s attention. He recognizes the tune, beginning to mutter along with her.  _ “ _ _ A canary sings a cradle song. Sleep, sleep, sleep, child. Above the cradle, the loquat fruits sway. Sleep, sleep, sleep, child. A squirrel rocks the cradle by its rope. Sleep, sleep, sleep, child. Dreams in a cradle, with the yellow moon shining down. Sleep, sleep, sleep, child.”  _

His mother laughs quietly, gently tugging at the comb to bring it through his hair. “You remember.” He nods, letting a small grin find its way onto his face. “Of course I remember. Dad used to tuck me in and you would sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep.” He runs his sleeve across his face, drying a tear. His mother nods, continuing to comb through Shouyou’s hair. The two of them sit in silence until Shouyou’s mother finishes combing his hair. She puts the comb down, turning off the hairdryer and running her fingers through his bright orange locks. “There. All done, Shouyou.”

He stands up, running a hand through his hair and grinning. “Thank you.” She nods, smiling back at him. “If you have any dirty clothes, I’ll do the laundry when I get home from work. Just make sure it’s in the washer, alright?” He gives her a nod, hugging her tightly. He lets go after a few quiet moments, heading back upstairs to his room. He locks the door behind him, pulling the ragged grey curtains open to let the sunlight in. He stares at the notes scattered across his floor, grabbing a notebook and his own pen. 

_ Kill yourself. _

_ Dog boy. _

_ Starve yourself. _

_ Psychopath. _

_ Jump off the school roof. _

_ Drown yourself.  _

_ Nobody would even miss you. _

_ Why are you still here? _

He wrote down the contents of the notes, constantly scratching them out and rewriting them. Pink pens. Who did he know that owned an assortment of pink pens? Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens. 

He huffs, leaning against his palm. Why was this so difficult? He shouldn’t be having this much trouble figuring out who his perpetrator was. He throws his notebook on the floor, standing up and pacing around his room. There were only twelve people on the volleyball team, and he had already decided it wasn’t one of his classmates. At least, not one that wasn’t on the team with him.

Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens. He scratches out yet another name, slamming his pen down. Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens. Who the hell owns pink pens? Why is this taking up so much of his thought process? Why can’t he just let it go and forget about it? Do these notes really bother him this much? Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens. Why the hell is he so frustrated? Why the hell is he so enticed by the writer of these notes? Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens. He tugs at his hair in frustration, already messing up the half hour of work his mother put into combing it. Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens. He brings his fist to the back of his head, hitting it in an attempt to try and focus. Pink pen.s Pink pens. Pink pens. Where the hell has he seen those god damn pens? Sparkling light pink ink, with bits of gold scattered among the silver. Pink pens. Pink pens. Pink pens.

He jolts, looking up at the wall. Pink pens. He knows where he’s seen the pink pens. He flips the page in his notebook, picking up his own pen once more. A slight tear can be heard as he frantically scrawls a name into the paper, putting his pen back down and standing up. He stares down at the page, taking a couple deep breaths to calm himself. 

_ Yamaguchi Tadashi. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! i hope this was okay !  
> the next chapter will probably focus more on the actual practice game, but i'm still trying to plot that chapter out :0  
> anyways !! i hope you enjoyed !!


	5. Better Off Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon first glance, Hinata Shouyou is a lost cause. He’s dirty, unnaturally thin, small, and his overall appearance is unsettling. He’s often the victim of rumors, occasionally even physical harassment. That wasn’t really Tadashi’s style, though. He’s never laid his hands on Hinata in any way; not aggressively, at least. He doesn’t plan on doing so, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UWAH uhh update !! hi !!  
> wow there's been a lot of updates recently ehehe  
> this one is kinda short but. i ran out of ideas towards the end.  
> enjoy though !!

Upon first glance, Hinata Shouyou is a lost cause. He’s dirty, unnaturally thin, small, and his overall appearance is unsettling. He’s often the victim of rumors, occasionally even physical harassment. That wasn’t really Tadashi’s style, though. He’s never laid his hands on Hinata in any way; not aggressively, at least. He doesn’t plan on doing so, either. It’s always Tsukki doing anything physical. Tadashi simply stands by and watches, occasionally throwing out praise for his best friend. 

Despite his borderline obsessive attachment to Tsukki ( following his every order, chiming in with his own verbal assault, refusing to leave his side ), he often feels bad about things he’s said. Even if it was something as simple as _“shut up,”_ he’d lay awake at night and think about what things would’ve been like if he had just kept his mouth shut. 

This was different though. He was acting on his own accord. Tsukki had nothing to do with his actions. He was mad. He still is. They had lost yet another practice game. All because of him. All because of Hinata. If he couldn’t even win a _practice game,_ how did he expect to win a real game? Why wasn’t Hinata being benched? He was essentially useless anyways. Tadashi should be the one on the court, not that psychotic ginger dog-child. 

He’s sick and tired of spending hour after hour practicing for a sport he’ll never get to play. He’s sick and tired of Hinata getting to play, despite the fact he’s often admitted he has no interest in volleyball. He deserved to be on the court. He deserved to be admired. He deserved it, all of it. Was he being narcissistic? Perhaps. But he refuses to sit by and let his ~~team’s~~ talent go to waste because of _Hinata._

So what if he was the one who wrote those notes? Tadashi was golden. He was a perfect kid, a perfect student. Nobody would believe he actually wrote them. That was a perk of behaving. He could get away with anything. He could push the blame onto Hinata. He could get him expelled. Tadashi would finally be able to play.

But that wasn’t enough for him. If Hinata was expelled, he could easily go play for a different team. That was worse. He’d hold a grudge against Tadashi; he’d ruin him. No. What Tadashi needed was to get Hinata out of the picture entirely. Permanently. He was better off dead, anyways. Nobody liked him, nobody would miss him. _Nobody would even notice._

He’s been leaving the notes everywhere. On Hinata’s desk, in his locker, even in his pockets. That damned pink pen would taunt him. It was always Tadashi’s favorite out of all the pens he had. _Pink Lemonade._ That was the name of it. A light, almost pastel shade of pink, with slivers of silver and gold scattered within it. It was UV reactive, too. It would shift into a beautiful orange. _Sunrise Orange._ It was a lovely pen. It made his notes just that much more insulting.

He almost feels bad, wasting its ink on someone so nauseating. _Almost._ Tadashi doesn’t feel a shred of remorse for what he’s doing ( likely a trait he picked up after knowing Tsukki for years ). It’s sick. Brutal. Sadistic. Repulsive. But Tadashi doesn’t seem to care what it is. Sure, he’s stopped to consider how it would make Hinata feel, only to bask in the thought of the ginger boy hurting himself. It makes him feel powerful; he feels like he can finally stand up to others on his own, without just quivering behind Tsukki all the time. He knows he’s sick; thinking like this, getting enjoyment out of Hinata's suffering. All because he was upset that the dog-child got to play and he didn’t. 

He isn’t surprised when Hinata approaches him during lunch, asking to speak with him in the bathroom. Instead he follows, acting innocent. He blocks out anything Hinata tries to say to him on the way there, not particularly caring about what was on his mind. They stop in the boys bathroom, slipping into one of the stalls. Tadashi stares down at Hinata, who appears to be frantically trying to collect his thoughts. 

“You wrote those notes, didn’t you?” Tadashi tilts his head, frowning slightly. “What no-” He gets cut off by a hard surface slamming against his back. It takes a moment for him to realize it, but Hinata shoved him. “ _Don’t._ Act like you’re innocent. You and I both know this is _your fucking pen.”_ He takes one of the notes out of his pocket, shoving it in Tadashi’s face. Despite popular belief, Hinata isn’t stupid. In fact, he’s observant, good at reading the atmosphere, as well as people. It’s something Tadashi hates about him. The way he has all these talents, yet never applies them.

He stands straight, brushing himself off. “I lost that pen ages ago. Why do you automatically assume it’s mine? That’s not even my handwriting.” He can read Hinata’s thoughts as if they were being projected on a screen. _Liar. You’re a fucking liar._ Tadashi crosses his arms over his chest, pouting slightly. It’s not real; none of his emotions during this conversation have been. “You’re a sick, sadistic person, Yamaguchi.” _I know I’m sick._ A phrase Tadashi will only ever say in his head. “Do you get some kind of twisted enjoyment out of this? Does it make you feel good, knowing you’re tormenting someone?” _I do._

“It’s not my handwriting.” He can see the frustration building just from the look on Hinata’s face. His pale skin is tinted a bright red, his eyes slowly lighting aflame with rage. “Are we done here? I’d like to eat my lunch before the lunch period ends.” Tadashi uncrosses his arms, unlocking the stall and stepping out. He hears Hinata step out after him, though he refuses to look back. He’s small and weak, he wouldn’t be an issue if things got physical. Tadashi steps out into the hallway, starting to head back towards where Tsukki was sitting. He stops, feeling something wrap around his wrist. He turns, looking down at Hinata.

“Dude, let go. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Hinata doesn’t let go, digging his heels into the floor as Tadashi tries to walk away. “Let go.” Tadashi has always hated how stubborn Hinata is. He tugs his arm, hoping Hinata would let go. Unfortunately, he didn’t, causing Tadashi to huff quietly and stomp his foot. “I’m gonna tell you one more time. Let. Go.” Neither of them move. A crowd forms around them, already starting to chant. _Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight._ Tadashi brings his foot around, giving Hinata a rough shove. He stumbles, letting go of Tadashi’s wrist. “You’re fucking sick, Yamaguchi.” 

_Sick. Tadashi knows that he’s sick. No normal person would tell someone such terrible things and have no remorse. But is he really so sick? Compared to Hinata; the dog-child, hated by his own mother? A psychotic, short-tempered bastard? Is Tadashi the sick one in this situation? Perhaps he is, but whether or not he cares is a different story._

He curls his hands into fists at his sides, digging his nails into his palms. He looks down at Hinata, grabbing him by the hair and tugging him closer. “You’re fucking stupid.” The crowd around them is silent; not because they went quiet, but because Tadashi blocked out their stupid chanting. “You’re stupid, and you’re stubborn, and you’re _useless._ You never should’ve joined the volleyball team, you should’ve died in that car accident too.” Tadashi lets go of Hinata, shoving onto the floor. He watches him struggle to stand for a moment, eventually digging his heel into the back of one of Hinata’s hands before walking away. 

. . . . . .

Shouyou sits on the floor, holding his hand close to his chest as he stares at his knees. He doesn’t feel like moving. He just wants to sit there. His eyes are already glazed over with tears, though he doesn’t do anything to stop them from falling. _You should’ve died in that car accident too._ He didn’t think Yamaguchi was capable of saying something like that. The other’s words ring through Shouyou’s head, looping over and over. _Useless. Stubborn. Stupid. Useless. Stubborn. Stupid._

_Useless._

_Is he really useless?_

. . . . . .

He walks into class, another note already catching his eye. He sits down at his desk, putting his bag down on the floor beside him and unfolding the note. The sparkly pink ink makes him feel sick, but he doesn’t want to ask to go to the bathroom and draw attention to himself. He stares at the note, scanning the messy handwriting. 

_You’re better off dead._


	6. Sex and Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s almost a 100% chance this is your first time, so why don’t you just sit back and—”
> 
> “Why do you work here?” Shouyou’s question seems to turn up a blank slate for Oikawa. His eyes dull, his muscles tense, and he begins to fidget. “Why I work here is none of your business. You shouldn’t even know that I come to this disgusting establishment. If I wanted a conversation, I would’ve taken you outside. Stop talking, and start taking your clothes off. I don’t have all night, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> djsjskskwubwub uhh update!! finally getting the motivation to write again!! :) 
> 
> thank you to everyone who told me it was okay to take my time, i really appreciate it !! <:3
> 
> uhhh??? this chapter is kinda short??? and probably won’t make sense???? idk i wrote most of it during a mental breakdown :/ but! i hope you enjoy it regardless o^o
> 
> anyways!!!! here you go !!! :)

Ever since that fight he had with Yamaguchi, he’s heard rumors. Not the same ones as always, though; these were different. 

_“I heard he’s been arrested for assault before.”_

_“I heard he tortures anything smaller than he is. Poor Nishinoya-san.”_

_“I heard he killed his entire family.”_

I heard this. I heard that. It’s all bullshit anyways ( aside from the torturing, but it’s only ever bugs and already dead animals ). A simple search would prove all of that false. But no one ever wants to fact-check that kinda stuff, do they? They all want to entertain their horrible fantasies, always want to be right. _They’re all delusional. They always have been and they always will be._ He moves through the rest of his day, blocking out passing conversations. His typical talks with Sugawara were ignored, quickly becoming blurs in his sea of thoughts. He was appreciative of the fact he wasn’t going to practice tonight; having to deal with Yamaguchi for longer than was necessary seems exhausting and humiliating for Shouyou.

He tugs on the sliding door to his room, groaning when it refuses to budge. He drops his bag outside his room, leaning against it and sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. “Onii-chan..?” 

_“What?”_ He can practically hear Natsu flinch, sighing as he lifts his head. “I’m sorry, Natsu. I didn’t mean to snap at you. What’s up?” She fiddles with the hem of her dress, avoiding eye contact with Shouyou. “Um.. Could you help me with my homework? It’s okay if you’re busy, I just wanted to know..” He looks down at his phone, swiping through his notifications. “Ah.. not tonight, Natsu. I have to meet up with a friend to study for a test. Maybe mom can help you.” He feels bad lying to his sister, but he needs to get out of the house. He’ll go insane otherwise. “Oh. Alright. Good luck on your test, onii-chan.” And with that she wanders off, calling out for their mother.

Shouyou stands up, giving his bedroom door one last kick before turning to leave. He wanders through the streets, glancing around at the homeless beggars lining the sidewalks. He’s lived in this neighborhood his entire life, and yet they still manage to make him feel sick; though, he would likely be doing the same thing if his mother didn’t work so many jobs. It doesn’t take him long to find the red light district; it never has for him. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, staring at the time displayed on the screen. _10:28 PM._ Perfect. He looks up at a bright neon sign, glancing over the kanji before stepping through the doors. 

He glances around at the women, rolling his eyes as a rather tall one approaches him. “Hey, handsome. What’s a small fry like you doing all the way out.. Here. Do I recognize you from somewhere?” Shouyou looks the girl in the eyes, stumbling back when he’s met with, not a woman, but the Grand King himself. “I do! You’re that pesky Number 10 from Karasuno!” He shrinks back on himself, avoiding eye contact. He came to have fun, not to be degraded and humiliated. “ _Well?_ Are you going to pay up or not?” He snaps his attention back up to Oikawa, shifting his weight as he stands in front of him. “I just.. Came to investigate. That’s all.” He flinches at the brunette’s shrill laughter, leaning away from him. “Bullshit! Kids like you don’t come here to “investigate.” You came to get with one of my girls, didn’t you?”

Shouyou shifts awkwardly, looking down at the glitter-covered floor. “You’re not one of them, are you? You like the thick ones, isn’t that right?” His face glows a bright red, and he attempts to stutter out a simple response. “You do! You like boys! You’d take it _real good_ up the ass for me, wouldn’t you? Or maybe you’d take it all down your throat, just _barely_ resisting the urge to choke?” He falters, stumbling back as Oikawa continues to pervert his thoughts with his lewd suggestions. “Hey, are you paying up or not? Some of us have bills to pay.” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans closer to Shouyou. “Not that I do, I’m just here to make a little extra cash.” He pulls back, placing a hand on his hip and staring down at Shouyou. “So? What’ll it be, bunny?” He looks down at his pocket, pulling out the roughly four thousand yen he had stolen from Sugawara. “Is this enough?” 

Oikawa blinks, staring at the wad of cash in Shouyou’s hand. “That’s more than enough, bunny. But if you’re offering, I won’t turn it down. Two sessions, coming right up.” Shouyou stumbles back again, placing half the yen back in his pocket. “J-Just one, please. That’s.. All I need, really.” Oikawa’s laugh feels more like mockery than genuine laughter as he takes the yen from Shouyou’s hand. “Right this way, right this way!” Oikawa places a hand on his back, guiding him into a private area and sliding the door shut behind them. “There’s almost a 100% chance this is your first time, so why don’t you just sit back and—”

“Why do you work here?” Shouyou’s question seems to turn up a blank slate for Oikawa. His eyes dull, his muscles tense, and he begins to fidget. “ _Why_ I work here is none of your business. You shouldn’t even know that I come to this disgusting establishment. If I wanted a conversation, I would’ve taken you outside. Stop talking, and start taking your clothes off. I don’t have all night, you know.” Shouyou simply watches as Oikawa strips himself of his casual clothes, revealing a surprisingly feminine, frilly black top. “W-Why are you wearing _that_?” Shouyou’s face glows a bright red under the blacklights, his question earning an annoyed huff from Oikawa. “What? You expect me to just wear my boxers? I’m trying to make money here, shortstack. Guys are all over you when you appeal to them.” 

Shouyou stares up at him, then quickly looks back at his own clothes. “What do I..?” Oikawa groans, grabbing Shouyou’s shirt and pulling it over his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He grabs Shouyou’s belt loop, tugging his pants off and tossing them over his shoulder. “You came here in your school uniform, too. How much of an amateur are you?” He keeps his mouth shut as Oikawa continues to strip him, simply looking off to the side and avoiding eye contact. “Come on. You paid for this, don’t tell me you want a refund now.” 

“No, I.. I want this, I do.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I’m nervous!”

“Then just sit back and I’ll take control of- Ha! There we go, right there.” Shouyou holds back a moan, grabbing Oikawa by the arm as he bites down on his wrist. “Ah.. Sorry, sorry. I forgot you’re a virgin. This is overwhelming for you.” Shouyou nods, letting out a shaky breath as he tightens his grip on Oikawa’s arm. “Breathe, dummy. If you die during sex, it’ll be humiliating for you.” He takes a moment to breathe, calming himself down in the process. “Are you ready now?” He nods, letting go of Oikawa’s arm. “Okay. I’m gonna move now.” He lifts himself up, dragging a rather loud moan out of Shouyou’s mouth. “You’re so sensitive. It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone like you.” 

“Why are you even interested in me? I’m dirty! And.. all those rumors. Surely you’ve heard them.”

“Listen, small fry. Rumors are just that. Rumors. Besides, you’re paying me to do this. I’m not turning down two thousand yen based on something as small as a rumor that you were raised by dogs.” He feels… loved. It’s been a while since someone has said they don’t care about the rumors that had been spread about him. He knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way, but part of him wants to keep feeling it. “Oikawa-san..” Shouyou is hushed, and a thumb makes its way across his cheek: “You can call me Tooru. Especially if this is going to be a continuous endeavor.”

“Tooru.. Tell me again about how you don’t care about the rumors.” A laugh. He’s used to hearing laughter; mocking, obnoxious laughter. But this laughter is soft; almost loving. “I don’t care about rumors, duckling. They’re all just that; rumors.” And with the reassurance that there was _finally_ someone who ignored what had been said about him, Shouyou took his first step into adolescence, and his virginity walked out of that club alongside him. 

o o o o o o

It’s been months since that first encounter, and Shouyou has continuously come back for more. It’s reassuring, knowing Oikawa doesn’t care who he is or what he’s done or what rumors have spread about him. He has someone to connect with, and that’s all Shouyou can ask of him. 

Unfortunately, he’s been inflicted with a rather upsetting side effect. Hypersexuality; the obsession with sexual thoughts, urges, or behaviors that may cause distress or negatively affect health, jobs, or relationships. It started as simply visiting Oikawa when he was feely needy, though it began to grow into a constant need to be engaged in sexual behaviors. Had he not fallen in love with Oikawa, this would’ve been fine. Unfortunately, he had, and it was costing him _(or more accurately, it was costing Sugawara)_ thousands of yen to continue seeing him. Another unfortunate thing, was that Oikawa is a part of the sex industry. Meaning, Shouyou isn’t the only person engaged with him. He understood this, of course, but it was different when he wasn’t in love with Oikawa. 

He remembers paying Oikawa a visit, only to find him sitting on a stranger’s lap and kissing them. It was as if Shouyou never existed. He had confronted Oikawa about it, only to be laughed at and told that he was being stupid. The soft, loving laughter was gone; now it was only the cold, mocking tone Shouyou is used to. He stands in the private room alone, staring at the glitter-covered and cum-stained carpet as he tries to gather his thoughts. The only person he’s ever loved _(a sex worker. a rather unlucky choice for Shouyou.)_ has just laughed at him, called him stupid, and practically spit in his face. What is he supposed to do now? 

He abandons post at the sex club, heading home and rolling into bed; he knocks his forehead into the wall doing so, though he hardly cares at this point. _Hypersexuality. An obsession with sexual thoughts, urges, or behaviors that may cause distress._ Shouyou certainly feels distressed. Perhaps he should’ve listened to himself when part of him said it was a bad idea to get involved with Oikawa like that. He should’ve listened to a lot of things, really. He’s called Sugawara already; the only thing he received was a mental slap on the wrist and scolded for even thinking he was in a relationship with Oikawa. He’s glad he hadn’t admitted to stealing from his wallet; god only knows how that conversation would’ve gone. He pulls his phone from his pocket, turning it on to glance at the home screen.

_“No notifications right now! :)”_

He sighs, letting his phone drop over the side of his bed and onto the nasty, rotting floorboards. He pulls the blankets over his torso, curling up to bring his feet under it as well. He stares at the wall, scanning over every crack and every insect escaping from them. He wants affection; he _craves_ it. But that requires trust, and affection without trust is bound to hurt. He figured that out the hard way. A buzz on the floor startles him, and he frantically rolls over to look at his phone. 

**From : Tooru**

_Hey, Hina-chan! I know it’s been a while, but The Vibe Lounge is having a happy hour tonight. Meet up at the Karasuno bus stop if you’re interested. My treat ;)_

His breathing hitches at the text message; happy hour? His treat? A wink? He stops for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Fortunately for him _(and unfortunately for Sugawara),_ the pros heavily outweigh the cons. He rolls over, holding his phone close as he types out a response.

**From : You**

_Hey, Tooru-san! I’ll take you up on the offer. I’ll stop by in 10 ;)_

He throws on some clean clothes _(his mother had done his laundry recently)_ and bounded down the stairs, careful not to slip on the way down. He puts his shoes on, putting his phone in his pocket and hopping on his bike. He pushes off, taking his normal route to school. It doesn’t take him long to reach the bus stop for Karasuno; he hops off his bike, letting it rest against the street post. He waits for what feels like hours, standing alone at the bus stop in front of his coach’s store. He takes his phone out, frowning slightly as he reads the message on the screen.

**From : Tooru**

_Iwa-chan picked me up to take me home. Better luck next time~! <3 _

He stomps his foot, turning to look into the convenience store behind him. The lights are still on, and he can see Ukai sitting behind the counter, cigarette and magazine in hand. He walks into the store, leaning against the front counter. “Um.. Can I help you, Ginger?” Shouyou swallows, giving Ukai a quick up-down glance. “Ah.. Horn.. Ugh..” Yet another affliction from his endeavors with Oikawa; he’s turned on by his volleyball coach. “Horn? Kid, what are you talking about?” He takes a deep breath, placing his palms on the counter and leaning over it. “Want you..” 

“Want me? Want me to do what? Are you feeling alright?” No. Shouyou isn’t feeling alright. He shouldn’t be lusting after adults, let alone his coach. Nonetheless, he brings a hand up to cradle the back of the other’s head, slowly inching closer. “Want you to kiss me. Want you to fuck me, want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, until I can’t play volleyball for _weeks._ ” He slides past the counter, kissing and nibbling at his ear. “Please, coach?” He panics as Ukai tries to pull back, pushing his head forward and kissing him. They stay like that for a moment; Shouyou’s lips pressed to his, Ukai’s eyes wide open, Shouyou’s hand the only thing holding them together. And then slowly; slowly, but surely, Ukai brings a hand up and runs it through Shouyou’s messy, tangled hair. They separate after a moment, looking at one another with eyes full of lust. Shouyou brings his hand back, only to have it blocked by Ukai’s. “Go home, Ginger.”

And finally, three things are certain to Shouyou.

_He’s attracted to his volleyball coach._

_Hypersexuality is NOT fun._

_And Oikawa Tooru is nothing but a street whore with no feelings for anyone but himself._


	7. Put Me Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did he start crying so much? Is there something wrong with him? He feels tired; god, he feels so fucking tired all the time. He feels as though he’s been shattered into millions of tiny pieces; pieces so small he’s still finding them under the rugs and tatami mats; and yet, he feels next to nothing at all. He has just about everything he could ever want, so why does he feel like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehehe did i wait just to post this on oikawa's birthday?  
> >:3 yes. i did.
> 
> anyways anyways uhhh 
> 
> !! oikawa chapter for his birthday uwu  
> 

Why does he work here? He hates this disgusting establishment. It’s dirty, it’s shady, it’s everything Tooru hates, and yet every night, without fail, he finds himself in a private room with someone he’s never even met, performing some kind of sexual act without protection. And he’s okay with this fact. Why is he okay with this? What does he get out of having unprotected sex with strangers?

_Validation._

_Male attention._

_Self-esteem._

_A sense of self worth._

Things he hasn’t had in awhile. Sure, he has crowds of girls to provide him with validation, but he can never connect with it personally. He needs one on one validation. It’s almost an addiction to him. He pulls his shirt over his head, politely thanking his patron for their time. He didn’t enjoy himself, though; sex with this particular customer was never enjoyable on Tooru’s end. _“Thank you for your time, master! I look forward to your next visit, nyah!”_ He can feel himself gag each time he repeats that disgusting script. He watches them leave, sighing and sitting down in the chair behind him the second they’re out of sight. He can’t wait until his shift is over; he’s not sure how much longer he can take this. “Dahlia, you have a patron out front trying to request you.”

“Tell them I’ll see them in thirty minutes, private room B.” He stands up again, running a sweaty hand through his messy hair and stepping out of the private room he was currently in. He locks himself in the bathroom, leaning over the sink. “It’s okay, Tooru. Only two hours left of this bullshit. You can do this. He runs his hands under the water for a moment, proceeding to rub his face with them to rinse off the sweat. He dries his face, fixing his eyeliner before attempting to make his hair look at least somewhat presentable. He looks at his phone, checking the time displayed on the screen. Twenty minutes left. _Rinse off, get your regular clothes back on, take off those stupid cat ears, make yourself look good._ Ten minutes. _Hype yourself up, put on the fake energy._ Five minutes. _Last minute touch-ups, act like you’re happy to be there._ Time’s up. He steps out of the bathroom, composing himself before heading towards the private room. “You can do this, Tooru. It can’t be worse than yesterday. You can do this.” He slides the door open, closing his eyes and preparing to introduce himself. “ _Dahlia?_ Seriously?”

**_He can no longer do this._ **

His heart sinks as he hesitantly opens his eyes. “Iwa-chan…” He stops the confident act, closing himself off. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t play dumb.” He looks away from Iwaizumi, grabbing at the hem of his shirt. He knows exactly why he’s here. “Iwa-chan, I didn’t take you as that kind of person…”

“ _What?_ No, I’m here to take you home, dumbass!” _Oh._ He shifts his weight, nervously looking around. “My shift isn’t over yet, though.”

_“Get in the car, Tooru.”_

“Okay.” He feels his face begin to burn as he leads Iwaizumi to his car. He awkwardly climbs into the passenger seat, taking his shoes off and buckling himself in. They sit in silence for what feels like hours, listening to the sounds outside. “Care to explain why you’ve been working in a _sex club_ of all places?”

“No, because I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.”

  
  
_“Oikawa.”_

“I said what I said, Iwa-chan.”

“God, you’re so fucking difficult.”

“Why does it matter to you anyways? You’re not my fucking boyfriend.”

  
  
“You’re right, Oikawa. I’m not. Good observation skills.”

“Why are you so mad at me?”

“Because I don’t need to be best friends with a fucking _whore,_ Oikawa.” He goes quiet, holding back tears as they form in his eyes. The car stops in front of his house, jerking as Iwaizumi steps on the brakes. “Get out of my car.” He grabs his shoes, getting out of the car and turning back to Iwaizumi. “That was incredibly uncalled for, _Hajime.”_ He slams the car door shut, trudging barefoot up to his front porch. He checks the time on his phone, frowning as he unlocks the door and steps inside. He closes it quietly behind him, careful not to wake up his family. He locks the door again, heading downstairs to his room. He sits on his bed, staring at the carpet as he tries to stop himself from crying. _Whore. Is that all he is now?_

He stands up again, stepping into the bathroom and kneeling in front of the bathtub. He rests his forehead on the edge, grabbing handfuls of his hair as he begins to sob. He turns the water on, running his hands under the faucet before rubbing them on his face to clean himself up. He hates the way he looks when he cries. He always feels ugly and disgusting. He calms himself down, going back to his room and laying down. He stares at the ceiling, feeling more and more restless as the time goes on. He gets out of bed yet again, digging through his school bag until he finds what he’s looking for. _Cigarettes._

He stuffs them into his pocket, heading upstairs and standing in his backyard. He reaches into his pocket, taking out the carton and pulling the lighter out of it. He puts one of the cigarettes between his lips, slipping the carton back into his pocket. He brings the lighter to his face, lighting his cigarette and placing the lighter in his pocket as well. He takes a deep breath in, smiling to himself as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth. He exhales, laughing at the cloud of smoke that fades out in front of him. He doesn’t remember exactly when he started smoking; all he knows is that it makes him feel good. He finishes his cigarette, flicking it onto the ground and digging his bare, calloused heel into it to put it out.

O O O O O O

He steps into the locker room, setting his bag down and taking out his volleyball uniform. He slips his shirt on, his shorts following not long after. He reaches out to grab his bag, jolting back when he sees another hand doing the same thing. “Iwa-chan! You startled me.”

“Show me your bag.” Tooru blinks, looking around at his teammates. “It’s right here. You can see it.” He tenses at the glare Iwaizumi gives him, tugging his bag away from him. “Show me what’s inside it.” Inside it? “What do you mean? It’s just my- Hey!” He stumbles forward as Iwaizumi tugs his bag towards himself, reaching into it and pulling out the carton of cigarettes from last night. “I knew it! You’re _smoking_ now?” The locker room goes quiet; he can feel the disappointed eyes of his teammates burning into his back. He snatches the carton from Iwaizumi’s hands, shoving them back into his bag. “Tooru, do you know what could happen if you get caught with those? You could get expelled, you’ll never be able to play volleyball again, and you’ll lose literally everything you worked so hard for.” He brings his hands to his head, grabbing fistfuls of hair and tugging at it as he tries to stop himself from crying. “You know what that shit does to your lungs, right? You can’t do this to yourself, Oikawa.” He feels tears sting his cheeks, bringing his hands down to wipe them away. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’ve done enough, Iwaizumi.” The locker room is deafeningly quiet now; he storms out, leaving his teammates behind as he tries to stop the tears. 

When did he start crying so much? Is there something wrong with him? He feels tired; god, he feels so fucking tired all the time. He feels as though he’s been shattered into millions of tiny pieces; pieces so small he’s still finding them under the rugs and tatami mats; and yet, he feels next to nothing at all. He has just about everything he could ever want, so why does he feel like this? 

O O O O O O

He has trouble concentrating during practice; things that used to come so easily to him feel difficult now. He closes the front door, locking it behind him. The house is empty as always; his brother doesn’t live there anymore, and his mother is still at work. He sits at the dining room table, leaning on his arm as he listens to the silence surrounding him. He’s always hated silence. It makes him feel alone and uncomfortable. He looks through his phone, searching for someone he can call over to cancel out the silence. His eyes land on a particular contact, scanning over the name. _Hinata Shouyou._ He mindlessly taps on the call icon, bringing his phone up to his ear as he listens to it ring. One topic led to another, Tooru invited him over, they went to his room, hands went places they shouldn’t have gone, and eventually they ended up naked and sweating, with Tooru holding the sleeping decoy against his chest. He lets his shaking hands find their way to the other’s hair, running his fingers through it and closing his eyes. 

_He doesn’t fit in his arms like Iwaizumi would. He’s small; fragile, even._

He opens his eyes again, carefully pulling his arms away and getting out of bed. He puts on a clean pair of shorts, looking back at the small teenager sleeping in his bed. He steps out of the room, grabbing his phone off the bookshelf. He sits at the dining room table again, staring at Iwaizumi’s contact name. He hesitates, tapping on it and holding his phone to his ear. “What is it? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I need someone to talk to, is all. Is.. that okay?” Silence. That’s all he hears on the other side. “Fine. What did you need to talk about?” He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, throwing a jacket on over his shirtless torso. “Just meet me outside your house, okay? I wanna take a walk.” He hangs up, stepping outside to wait for Iwaizumi. He’s pleasantly surprised to find him already standing on his front porch, waiting impatiently for Tooru to arrive. He holds his hand out to the other, frowning when he’s pushed away. “Iwa-chan..”

“Talk. It’s fucking cold out here, I don’t have time to listen to excuses.” He looks off to the side, following Iwaizumi as he walks. “I’ve.. been thinking a lot. And I think I’m finally ready to talk about it.” He takes a deep breath, toying with the zipper on his jacket. “I’m not sure how to say this but um.. I love you. And I know that sounds like absolute bullshit, but the entire reason I started working at that stupid club was to receive the validation I wanted from you, but I didn’t want to admit that I wanted it from you and so I took from anyone that would give it to me. And I know you think I’m a whore now, but I swear if you’d just give me a chance..”

“Shut up.” 

_Ouch._

“Iwa-chan, _please_.” He drops to his knees in front of Iwaizumi, ignoring the burning sensation of his bare skin scraping against concrete. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t feel anything but empty and I don’t know how to make it stop. You’ve always put me back together when I’ve fallen apart, why can’t you do that now? It hurts being like this, Iwa-chan, I’m not getting better this way. You know that, you’ve watched me deteriorate piece by piece by piece, you _know_ how much I fall apart every single night. Just put me back together one last time, I’m tired of feeling like this.”

“Get off your knees, dumbass. Maybe if you stopped talking for once in your life you’d be able to take a hint.” He stares up at him through tears, tilting his head as he lets them slide down his cheeks. He flinches at the feeling of hands under his arms, standing up with Iwaizumi’s help. “Come here, stupid.” He stands still, attempting to process the warmth surrounding him. _A hug. Iwaizumi is hugging him._ He cautiously wraps his arms around him, resting his head on the other’s shoulder as he begins to sob. “Calm down. You’re gonna be okay.” He tightens his grip, sniffling as Iwaizumi gently rubs his back. “Come on. Let’s go home, and I’ll make you some tea. You can even stay at my house, if you want.” 

“Thank you.. I love you so much.” Iwaizumi's quiet for a moment, squeezing him. _“Yeah. Love you too, dumbass.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways my gf pointed out that my chapter titles sound like they could be fall out boy songs and i hate it here :)
> 
> also !! for one, yes i know oikawa just left hinata, and i was going to include him going back to kick him out, but i knew if i kept messing with it i would never get this posted fjdjdj
> 
> and two!! i know it’s implied in the manga that he has an older sister, but i like the idea of him having an older brother more so i gave him one :>


	8. Now Your Mess Is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day. I… wasn’t exactly thinking straight, and I shouldn’t have done it.” Keishin blinks, sitting on the edge of his desk as he processes the situation. His attention snaps to Number 10’s feet as he sways on his heels. “You don’t mean that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING !! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS HEAVY PEDOPHILIA !!
> 
> also, ukai uses "kid" as a pet name quite often in this chapter, so there's that.
> 
> and while yes, i am the one who wrote it, I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT SUPPORT OR ENDORSE IT. in this case, it's a rather important part of the plot. AGAIN, I DON'T SUPPORT OR ENDORSE PEDOPHILIA. please don't come for my head <3

_ Warm; so very warm. That’s all Keishin feels as one of his volleyball players leans across the counter. The kid in front of him is his Number 10; a noticeably unstable ticking time bomb. He stares at him, watching his movements. He leans closer, mere inches away away from Keishin’s face. He moves past him, stopping at his ear and nibbling on it slightly. “I want you so bad.” He keeps quiet, leaning back in his seat to look at his Number 10. “Please, coach.”  _

“Coach?” 

He’s shaken from his fantasy by his Number 2.  _ Sugawara Koushi.  _ “What’s up?” The silver haired setter rubs at the back of his neck. “You were staring off again.. Are you sure everything’s alright?” Keishin swallows, looking over at Number 10.  _ His  _ Number 10.  _ Hinata Shouyou.  _ He scans over the boy’s features, taking all of him in; his bright orange hair, his dull brown eyes, his perpetually messy face, dirty clothes, and shoes hardly being held together by threads. He can’t put a finger on what makes him so enticing, but there’s definitely  _ something  _ about his Number 10 that Keishin can’t get away from. He looks back at Sugawara, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Everything’s just perfect. Go practice with the others, alright?” 

The setter nods, turning back to head towards his team. Number 10 catches Keishin’s attention again; watching the way he interacts with Number 9 bothers him a bit. They’re tense; anyone with two brain cells can see that. He catches Hinata’s hand curling into his fist, and he stomps his foot in annoyance as Kageyama continues to berate him. It doesn’t take much longer for his Number 10 to storm off, tossing the volleyball straight at Kageyama’s chest as he approaches Keishin. “Coach, can we talk?” 

His forwardness catches Keishin off guard, but he nods regardless and leads his Number 10 to the corner of the gym. “Uh.. I was thinking somewhere more.. private? Where it would just be the two of us.” Keishin freezes for a moment; his mind runs wild with scenarios, causing his face to flush red for a second. Ever since that run-in he had with his Number 10, his mind has been running rampant with these kinds of scenarios, most of which involve pounding the kid face-down into his mattress. Is he going to hell for having those thoughts?  _ Absolutely.  _ But who is society to play God? Needs are needs, right? 

He leads his Number 10 to his office, looking over at him as he closes the door behind them. He closes to the blinds as well, locking the door for good measure. “What’s up, Ginger?” He watches as the kid begins to fidget, smiling to himself as he studies him. Something about Number 10 just keeps drawing Keishin in, and yet he can never identify it. “I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day. I… wasn’t exactly thinking straight, and I shouldn’t have done it.” Keishin blinks, sitting on the edge of his desk as he processes the situation. His attention snaps to Number 10’s feet as he sways on his heels. “You don’t mean that.”

“What?”

A look of horror spreads across Number 10’s face as he stops swaying. “You don’t mean that, and you’re only saying it because you think it’s what I wanna hear.”

_ Bingo.  _

“Ah.. I’m sorry.”

“Apologizing for being caught in a lie never solves anything.”

_ “Coach..” He lets the kid slide into his lap, holding him by the hips and running a hand up his side. “Want you.. Want you really bad.” His breathing hitches, and he digs his nails into the other’s side as he begins to grind against his thigh. “Fuck, coach.” He leans closer, kissing and nibbling at the nape of Keishin’s neck.  _

_ “Feels good, feels really good.” He whines, nibbling at the bare skin between his teeth. “God, please, please just fuck me already. I want you so fucking bad..” Keishin slips his hands under Number 10’s jersey, sliding it over his head and tossing it off to the side. He lets his hand roam over his bare chest, using his other hand to hold him up.  _

He’s interrupted by a knock on the door, being pulled out of his fantasy yet again. “Coach? Kageyama and Tsukishima are at each other’s throats again..” Of course they are. Can’t have shit in Detroit. He guides a still fully-clothed Number 10 out of his office, glancing over at Sugawara as he walks by him.  _ Cockblocker.  _

o o o o o o

Keishin glances over at the door, hearing the bell ring. His expression softens when he sees the bright orange of Number 10’s hair. “What’s the deal this time, Ginger?”

“You were right. I only apologized because I thought it was what you wanted to hear. So instead, I’ve thought of something you might actually want to hear.”

“And what is that?”

“I want to.. I want.. I want to have sex with you.”

“And.. what made you think  _ this _ is what I wanted to hear?” He watches him fidget, laughing to himself as he stands up and steps around the counter, putting out his cigarette. “Relax, I’m just messin’ with you.” He sets a hand on his back, guiding him back towards the door. They step outside, Keishin locking up the store behind them. He leads him up the back stairs, unlocking the door to his apartment and pulling him inside. He shuts the door, carefully pushing the other up against the wall and tugging his shirt over his head. “Coach..”

“Call me Ukai. I think it sounds a lot better than just coach.”

“Ah.. In that case, you can call me Shouyou.” He helps Shouyou’s hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his own head as well. “Ukai..” Keishin lifts him up, holding him by the thighs as he carries him into his bedroom. He lays him down on the mattress, letting his hands do their own thing. “God, if only you knew how many times I’ve thought about you like this.” The implication that Shouyou thought of him the same way is enough to drive Keishin insane; he leans closer to him, sinking his teeth into the other’s neck. He basks in the slight echo of the ear-piercing whine that escapes Shouyou’s mouth, dragging his tongue along the wound as an apology. “ _ Fuuuuck _ .. Ukai, I want you so bad.. I want you to fuck me stupid.” He smirks, rolling Shouyou onto his stomach and tugging his pants off. “Hey. Suck.” 

He pries the ginger’s mouth open with his thumb, sticking three fingers into his mouth and letting him suck on them. His face flushes a bright red at the way he swirls his tongue around them, and he reluctantly tugs them out of his mouth. “You act like you’ve done this before.” He circles his hole with his index finger for a moment, hearing yet another whine as he inserts it. “Mm.. I’ve never done this with someone else before, but I think of you a lot when I’m alone.. You were a teenager once, I think you understand.. _Fuck, I didn’t expect your fingers to be so big.._ ” He smirks to himself upon hearing Shouyou’s quiet moaning, adding another finger to the other’s hole. “ _Ohhh, fuuuuuck.. Fuck, that feels so good._ _Fuck, keep going, Ukai._ ” He shushes him, stretching him out with his fingers. “Gotta make sure you’re gonna be able to take it, kid. Patience.” 

“More.. More fingers..  _ Fucking shit.. _ ” He looks down at the male beneath him, watching as he squirms and begs for Keishin to fuck him. “Look at you. You’re panting like a dog, and I’ve only just used my fingers.” He laughs, rubbing at his ass before adding the third and final finger. “Ha.. Fuck, I love you.”

“Let’s not get carried away, kid. We haven’t even started the real fun.” He watches the ginger squirm; he watches him writhe as he tries to get the satisfaction of having Keishin’s fingertips brush against his prostate, only to fail and whine about it to deaf ears. “Relax, kid, relax. You’ll get what you want in just a minute.” He pulls his fingers out after a few more moments, putting his hand around Shouyou’s throat and pinning him down. “Scream for me.” He unzips his own pants, tugging them off and throwing them to the side as he practically slams into the smaller male. He basks in the way Shouyou squeals, leaning forward and thrusting slowly as he kisses the back of Shouyou’s neck. “Fuck.. Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _ You’re so much bigger than I thought.. _ ” He watches in amusement as the other hides his face behind his arms, letting out an almost ear-piercing whine as Keishin continues to pound into him. “Oh, fuck.. Holy shit, kid..” He pulls on Shouyou’s hair, listening to him beg for release.  _ “Ah! Oh, Ukai! Oh, fuck! Please, please lemme cum! I wanna cum!” _ He laughs, pressing the other’s face back down into the mattress. “Yeah? You wanna cum, kid?” 

Another whine. Keishin was driving him crazy, and he damn well knew it. _ “Yes! Yes, please! Can I? Can I cum, daddy?” _ He jolts, leaning forward and biting Shouyou’s shoulder. “Mm.. Go ahead, kid.” Almost immediately, Shouyou’s body practically convulses, semen coating Keishin’s bed sheets as he relaxes. 

o o o o o o

_ Wet.. Sticky.. Warm..  _

He opens his eyes, furrowing his brows and glancing downwards. His eyes widen, and he practically leaps out of bed, putting his head in his hands as he tries to avoid staring at the wet spot on the bed. “I’m so disgusting..” He pulls his sheets off, huffing quietly. “I’m so disgusting. Who lusts after their student? It was a kiss, Keishin! A stupid kiss! The kid’s a mess, he was probably just delusional! God..” He shoves the sheets into his washer, pouring detergent into the tray and turning it on. He makes his way into the kitchen, marking another day off his calendar. At least it was a Saturday. He didn’t have to see Hinata at all. That would make it easier to forget about him. He looks at his reflection in the window, sighing as he tries to fix his hair a bit. He goes back to his room, changing out of his dirty clothes and grabbing his toothbrush before heading to the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, squeezing his eyes shut and slamming his fist into the sink when he decides he’s done looking at himself. How can he trust himself around kids if he’s thinking about one of his players like this? He looks down at his phone, turning it on and typing something into the search bar. 

_ “I need help.. I need some serious fucking help.” _

  
A therapist. That should be good. He drops his toothbrush, calling the number at the bottom of the info card.  _ “And the sooner I get it, the better.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways for anybody who’s confused, everything before the last row of dots is happening in a fantasy. a wet dream if you may. so none of it’s real. hope this cleared it up for u :) 💕


	9. Depersonalized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I see. You're so touch starved that you take any form of affection at face value and fall in love with anyone who shows you even the bare minimum because you never had that when it really mattered. Am I right?"
> 
> "You didn't have to say it like that.."
> 
> "Like what? The truth?" He leans away from the loveseat, grabbing his own blanket and his DS off the coffee table. "I don't sugarcoat things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> %^&&**(*%(*% hi !! it's been a while huh,, i had a lot of trouble trying to write this one and kept taking breaks but it's here now !!! it's here !!
> 
> it's a little short for how long i worked on it, but imma be real w/ u. i got frustrated with writing it and i know that if i try adding onto it i'll end up hating it so i decided it was best to post it as is :> thank you for being so patient !! enjoy !!

“Kenmaaaa. You can’t stay inside all day. You have to go outside at some point.” He rolls over in his bed, pulling the blanket up and ignoring Kuroo’s whining. “Hey!” He swats at Kuroo’s hands as he takes his switch from him, shoving it into his backpack. “An hour outside. Then you can have it back.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Outside.” He gets up, moving the blanket away and putting his shoes on. “Yeah, whatever. I’m only doing this to get my switch back.” He stands up, dragging his feet as he moves down the hallway to the front door. Kuroo follows close behind, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “You don’t have to bother me, you know. You’re not my dad.” He reaches behind Kuroo’s back, huffing when his hand is swatted away. “No, but I’m the only thing standing between you and starvation.” 

“I don’t see what going outside has to do with not starving.”

“You need fresh air. Sitting in your room with the curtains closed all day isn’t a good way to live life.”

“Neither is having non-stop sex with Karasuno’s setter to try and fill the void, but okay.” He watches Kuroo’s face turn red, laughing at his friend’s defeat. “Well, maybe you’re just jealous you’re still single. Ever thought about that?” He has, in fact. Relationships just aren’t something he has any interest in. Relationships required trust, and Kenma isn’t ready to trust someone on that level; even his friendship with Kuroo was on thin ice. “Hey. Isn’t that the Number 10 from Karasuno?” He looks up to where Kuroo is pointing. Sure enough, it certainly was their little orange-haired decoy. “I guess it is. Come on, let’s turn around. I don’t wanna get involved.” Lev has fed him so many rumors by now. 

_ He was raised by dogs.  _ That was why he was so dirty and frail. 

_ His mother hated him.  _ That was why he was so angry. 

_ He killed his own father.  _ That was why he was so destructive. 

_ Arrested for assault.  _

_ Illegal immigrant.  _

_ Psychopath.  _

Kenma could go on and on, listing things that Lev has told him. Instead, he grabs at Kuroo’s hand, trying to pull him away. “Hey, dog boy.”  _ And there went any hope Kenma had of escaping the situation.  _ He pulls his hoodie over his face, trying to erase himself as Kuroo trudges closer to the younger boy.  _ “What? You wanna fight?”  _ If only Kenma had gone outside the first time Kuroo asked. “Down, doggy, down! Just wanted to know what a kid like you is doing all alone in Tokyo.”

“I stole my friend’s wallet. Wanted to see what was so cool about Tokyo.” Kenma looks up at Kuroo, expecting him to explode at the mere thought of someone stealing his “lover’s” money. Instead, he’s disappointingly met with confusion. “That’s not Koushi’s. Who’s wallet is this?” Kuroo snatches the wallet from him, opening it up to look at the ID. “ _ Daichi? _ Damn, you stole your  _ captain’s  _ wallet? You’ve got guts, I’ll admit that.” Kenma snatches the wallet from Kuroo’s hands, shoving it back into the orange boy’s hands. “Go home.”

_ “What? But Miyagi is five hours away!” _

“That’s not my problem. Go home.” Kenma stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket, turning around to head back home. “Come on, Kuroo. I spent my time outside.” A strangled noise escapes his throat as Kuroo grabs his hand, pulling him back to the conversation. “Now, Kenma, why don’t we show.. er..”

“Hinata.”

“Hinata a little compassion? What if I told you to go home?”

_ “I live here.” _

“Take Hinata back to your place for the night.”

_ “What? Absolutely not, take him back to yours.” _

“Can’t. Koushi’s coming over tomorrow, he’ll lose his shit if the kid’s at my place.”

“That’s not my—”

“I want to go to your place. Suga-san will be furious if he knows I’m here.” Kenma can’t believe a word he’s hearing. He huffs, stomping his foot as his final argument, and worms his way out of Kuroo’s grip. “Whatever. Just don’t cause any trouble.”

The walk back to Kenma’s house is painfully silent. Hinata’s presence feels hostile to Kenma, and he glances over his shoulder at him every so often to ensure he’s not doing anything. “We’re here. Stop looking so upset, you’re the one who said you wanted to come with me.” 

“Do you have parents, Kenma?”

“Yes. They’re overseas right now.”

_ “Do they love you?” _

“I think so.”

_“Do you think I’m crazy?”_

“Stop it.”

_“Do you think I was raised by dogs?”_

“Stop.”

_“Do you think I’ll wrap my hands around your throat and just squeeze?”_

_ “Shut up!”  _ He looks over at Hinata, panting slightly as he stares at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Will you hurt me or yourself?”

“What?”

_ “Will you hurt me or yourself?” _

“Not unless you hurt me first.”

“Okay.” He sits down at the table, staring down at his phone. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”  _ What a bullshit lie that was.  _ There’s no way he isn’t hungry when he looks like that. “I’m gonna ask again. Are you hungry?” Hinata shifts uncomfortably, looking down at the floor. “Yes.” Kenma gets up again, opening his fridge and frowning. “Shit. Sorry, all I have is mochi. I’ll have to ask Kuroo to take me grocery shopping soon.”

“It’s fine. I don’t need anything anyways.”

“How often do you eat?” He covers his mouth, looking away from Hinata. “I’m sorry. That just slipped out. You don’t have to answer.” And answer, he doesn’t. Instead, Hinata curls up on Kenma’s couch, shivering and in search of a blanket. And suddenly, Hinata makes a little more sense to Kenma.  _ Anorexia nervosa: an eating disorder characterized by abnormally low body weight. _ Kenma remembers doing a report on it for health class. He scans over Hinata, checking the boxes as he assesses them.

_ Thin appearance.  _ That much was easy to tell.

_ Dizziness.  _ He can tell by the gentle swaying motion Hinata keeps doing whenever he stands up.

_ Bluish discoloration of the fingers. _

_ Intolerance of cold.  _

_ Insomnia.  _ He’d know those eyebags anywhere. 

And Kenma is sure he’s struck a sensitive topic for Hinata. He reaches over the back of the couch, grabbing a blanket and handing it to Hinata. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something a little personal?”

“Sure.”

“If you did something you weren’t supposed to do with someone you weren’t supposed to do it with, what would you do?”

“I don’t know. What did you do?”

_ “I kissed my volleyball coach and said I wanted to have sex with him.” _ Oh. Kenma isn’t sure what he was expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn’t  _ that. _ “Tell him what happened. He seems like an okay guy, I’m sure he’ll understand teenage hormones. Just.. I don’t know, don’t make a habit out of kissing adults?”

“Would a third year count as an adult?” 

“I don’t know, I just meant adults like your teachers. I don’t think third years are mature enough to be considered adults yet, and it’s unfair to expect them to suddenly mature by the time they graduate.”

“So it’s okay that I had sex with Oikawa?” Kenma practically chokes his own spit.  _ “You had sex with who?” _

“Oikawa.”

“Are you out of your mind? Did you at least use protection?” Hinata stays quiet, fiddling with his fingers. “Oh my god. Do you have any idea how many diseases you could be carrying right now?”   
  


“He told me he was clean.”

_ “Since when?” _

“Since always.” That’s right. Not everything Lev tells him is true. Maybe Oikawa didn’t even work at a sex club in the first place and Kenma was a fool for taking the rumor as fact. “He told me last week before he broke up with me.” Kenma turns his head, squinting at Hinata. “You were dating? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Well, we weren’t..  _ really _ dating. It felt like we were. Until he said he wasn’t interested in toying with me anymore.” 

“I see. You’re so touch starved that you take any form of affection at face value and fall in love with anyone who shows you even the least amount of attention because you never had that when it really mattered. Am I right?” Hinata stays silent as he fiddles with his hands again. “You didn’t have to say it like that..”

“Like what? The truth?” Kenma leans away from the loveseat, grabbing his own blanket and his DS off the coffee table. “I don’t sugarcoat things.” He gets up, moving towards the stairs. “Wait! Can you stay down here with me?” Kenma stares blankly at Hinata, sighing and moving back over to the loveseat. “Fine.”

“Good night, Kenma.”

“Yeah.”

O O O O O O

It’s already past noon when Kenma wakes up; he can tell because Kuroo is uncomfortably close to his face when he opens his eyes. He puts a hand in his face, pushing him back. “Go away, ugly.” 

“Kenmaaaa. So rude. Get up lazy boy, I made you breakfast.” Kenma rolls off the couch, groaning as Kuroo takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen. Hinata isn’t on the couch anymore, he notes. Kuroo must’ve taken him to the train station earlier in the morning. “I took care of your grocery shopping too. Next time let me know  _ before _ you run out of stuff to eat.”

“Thanks. What’d you get me?”

“Same as always. Soba, ramen, and udon with some rice bowls. And tomorrow I’ll swing by and make you some dinner. How’s grilled fish and rice sound?”

“You know you don’t have to keep making my food for me. I know how to cook.” Kenma sits at the table, poking at his bowl of rice. “Eh. I figured since I was already doing your grocery shopping, I might as well go the extra mile for my best friend.” 

“Mm. Thanks, then. What’s the scoop on Sugawara-san this time?”

“Ugh,  _ Crow Boy _ keeps trying to hit on him. It’s pissing me off how persistent he is.”

“Which one’s Crow Boy, again?”

“Sawamura. I’m getting real sick of him touching Koushi the way he does. It’s too possessive for my liking.”

“Beat the shit out of him, then.” Kenma slides his chair away from the table, holding out his now-empty bowl. “Hey, that’s the first time you’ve finished your food in awhile. I’m proud of you.” Kuroo presses his hand down on Kenma’s head, rubbing at it for a moment. “Get dressed, Ko and I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Are we going to the fountain? Because last time I went with you two, I ended up falling into the fountain because you were so busy making out with each other while I was in the middle that you pushed me into it.” 

“That wasn’t—”

“And before you say it wasn’t your fault, you were literally the one who pushed me.”

“Alright, you got me there. But no, we’re going to the museum.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about the National Museum of Nature and Science.”

“Yes! That’s the one I’m talking about!” 

“No. Hard pass.”

“Huh? But whyyyy?”

“I don’t care about science.”

“You never do anything fun with me, Kenma.”

“Don’t. Don’t play that card on me.” Kenma turns away from Kuroo, reaching for his switch. Kuroo swipes it just out of his reach, holding it above his head. “Come to the museum with Koushi and I.”

“You are the bane of my existence.”

“Is that backtalk I hear?” Kenma stays quiet, staring at Kuroo with displeasure. “That’s what I thought; no backtalk.” Kenma stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets and glaring up at Kuroo. “Well? Let’s go.”

“Not while you’re dressed like  _ that. _ How many days have you worn that jacket for?” Kenma opens his mouth to speak, groaning when Kuroo puts a hand in his face. “If it’s more than one, I don’t wanna hear it.” He closes his mouth.

“You are absolutely hopeless. What would you do without me?” Kuroo grabs Kenma’s hand, dragging him behind him as he wanders up the stairs. “Let’s see what you’ve got in your closet.” 

“I don’t have much. Just some casual shirts and my uniforms.” Kenma shifts his weight to one foot, huffing quietly as Kuroo digs through his closet in search of something for him to wear. “Here. Put this on, then.” Kenma is mortified by the shirt Kuroo holds in front of him. “Are you serious right now? I am  _ not _ wearing that, I’ve had it since middle school, it’s embarrassing.” Kuroo turns it around, studying the cat print on the front. “Really? I think it’s cute. You should wear it.”

“I would rather get hit by a bus.” 

“Kenmaaaa! I bought you this shirt!”

“I know.”

“Wear it for me?  _ Please? _ ” Kenma stares at Kuroo, watching him pout as he holds the shirt out. “Fine. But you better buy me a new game.”

“Deal. Don’t forget deodorant.” 

_ “Get out.” _ Kenma throws a stuffed cat at Kuroo, locking the door when the other flees the room. “This shirt is so stupid.” He stares at the pattern on the front, groaning as he takes his jacket off, along with his current shirt. He throws them into the overflowing laundry basket, putting on deodorant and throwing the new shirt on over his head. It still fits, unsurprisingly. Kuroo always bought him shirts that would be big enough for them both to wear when they got older, whether intentionally or not. Even now, the horrendously patterned shirt is more Kuroo’s size than Kenma’s. 

He unlocks his bedroom door, stepping into the hallway. “Aww, how cute.”

“Shut up. I wanna take this shirt off as soon as I can.”

Their walk to the museum is (unsurprisingly) filled with Kuroo and Sugawara touching each other entirely too much, and making jokes about their sex life, much to Kenma’s dislike. He busies himself with fantasizing, filling the world around him with otherworldly creatures and creating characters from objects he found on the road. He smiles to himself, looking up from his feet to catch up to Kuroo and Sugawara. “Ah!” He stumbles backwards as he’s met with a mess of black hair. “Kuroo? Why’d we stop walking?”

The other turns to face him, pointing straight at his chest.  _ “You are nothing without me.” _

“What?”

_ “You are worthless when I’m not around.” _

“Kuroo, stop it. You know how I feel about that.”

_ “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.” _

“Stop! I can’t take it anymore!” Kenma covers his ears, shrinking back on himself as he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders. “Kenma. Hey, you’re okay. That’s not me.” Kenma looks up, holding his arms out and rubbing his hands against Kuroo’s arms. “This is you. You are real.”

“Tell me something you can feel, Kenma.”

“I feel.. The ground. I feel your arms. And I feel the bone in your wrist.”

“Good. Tell me something you see.”

“Your ugly face.”

“There you go, that’s my Kenma. Come on, let’s get going before the museum closes. You can hold my jacket if you need to.” Kenma grabs the hem of Kuroo’s jacket, trailing behind him and Sugawara as they continue to talk.

_ It isn’t ideal, but anything that lets Kenma know that Kuroo is real is enough for him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dfjnsdjkf like i said it was really short for how much trouble it gave me and it ends a little abruptly but !! i hope it was still enjoyable !! :> thank you for reading !!


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